


I'm a desperate man

by columbine_and_asphodel (onlycrooks)



Series: The Innocent Bystander [5]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Danny's Past, Dark, Dirty Talk, Not exactly dubious consent, Other, Tattoos, Whump, but not happy consent either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 11:59:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlycrooks/pseuds/columbine_and_asphodel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a man makes choices which will come to define him, both as he is seen by the outside world and by himself. He meets certain people and becomes a lowly creature.</p><p>Or: Danny's past gets a bit of attention, and what's going on behind the door is revealed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm a desperate man

**Author's Note:**

> All I can say is that I'm addicted to Danny whump, that I'm a horrible, terrible person.
> 
> Not exactly dub-con but not happy-con, either, ahead. If that triggers you, then the first two divisions are free of that, if you're interested in my inept characterization.

The first thing his mother taught him was respect- for rules, people, authority, property, everything. The second was that everything meant _everything,_ that he wasn't allowed to make judgement calls on who or what he was supposed to respect, regardless of whether or not it was warranted or returned. The third thing she taught him was more a gift (albeit a rather disadvantageous one at times) than a lesson: morality.

Danny spent the first seven years of his life fine-tuning himself so he could keep his mouth shut when it needed to be but open when it didn't. It took getting hit with various eating utensils- whatever his mother happened to have in her hands, really, which, given the WIlliamses love of food, was almost always culinary-related- every time he made a mistake- generally of the not keeping his mouth shut variety- for him to figure out how to react properly, but it wasn't until he was fourteen that he stopped acting by rote and actually thought about what his mother had told him.

She was in the hospital after a particularly close call from a violent asthma attack- something Danny was always glad he didn't have to worry about- and he as sat in the chair next to her bed, watching her tiny chest rise and fall, it struck him how truly small his mother was. He'd never noticed how genuinely fragile her body could be. She had always seemed bigger than everyone else, her presence stronger than her gaunt body, yet as he watched over her, Danny couldn't help but think that if his mother had been spending her limited strength trying to pass on her values, they had to mean something.

Engeline Koertig-Williams had been a premier neuroscientist and alumni one of Germany's most competitive universities before she married Andrew Williams, a retired smokejumper on vacation in Stuttgart, and moved back with him to the United States. Though neuroscience was a continued, if limited, passion for her, she didn't regret exchanging a life of researching the brain for raising children. She did, however, make sure to instill her firstborn- as well as the others, but Danny most of all- with the determination and understanding for which he would later be renowned.

As she lay in the hospital bed, Danny wondered what the reason was for her to have picked respect, of all things. She was neither a pushover nor a sentimentalist but had her feet firmly planted in rational thought, so he reasoned that the lessons she'd given him must have practical value and made sure to think about them, as well as remember the words.

When, eight years later, she was hospitalized again, this time for two months, the worry that had always plagued Danny, that he would lose his mother early, began to eat at him vigorously, so he did what any man of twenty two would do when faced with a painful situation.

He got a tattoo.

It was his first and one of the few he would ever get, so he took his time, working with a good friend who was a professional tattoo artist to make sure it was something that wasn't cliche, in a spot he'd regret, or, most importantly, something that would upset his mother.

When the time came for him to lie back and let Anton do his job, Danny had full confidence in the ink he was going to have.

That night, he went to sleep with a white ink tattoo between his left ear and his hairline that read: _I am the only truth I know_   in the scratchy handwriting he'd copied from his mother's old notes.

He hadn't be sure what to expect when his mother discovered the tattoo- as he'd known she would, because Mrs. Koertig-Williams had a keen parental nose for finding out whatever her children did- had worried over it during months he was too busy with his beat to bisit, but it certainly hadn't been that she burst into tears. However loving she was, Danny's mother wasn't one to coddle or cry over her brood, and seeing his stalwart mother cry sent him reeling.

"Oh, Daniel," she whispered, her accent growing thicker as her voice dipped low, her speech stilted, "of all my children, you've always been the one who was most like me. I worried when you were little that you would be as cold as I, but no, you are your father's son, too, aren't you? Warm and soft, more the heart than the brain." She put her hands on his face, solemn as she whispered, "My little boy, you really are the type to suffer."

She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his forehead.

"I do love you, Dänchen."

He could only nod and place a gentle kiss on her hand.

* * *

Anja made her way into his life as a C.I.- his very first, in fact. She was, at the time, working as the madam in a drug-and-prostitution ring (not that he'd known that, like he hadn't known she was actually a federal agent of sorts) comprising mostly poor immigrants and runaways. Danny had just been promoted to Detective and his marriage was already starting to crumble when she came to him. He'd just finished at the gym and was heading home to change and run a few errands when a woman walked right up to him. She was tall and slender, her blond hair braided and hanging to her waist. Her dark eyes were pretty- or so he suspected they were, beneath all the makeup. It wasn't often he ran into prostitutes, not on his beat, but when he did, he always made a point of memorizing their faces, a morbid kind of just in case. This woman wasn't one of his, though, and he was still trying to puzzle out what she wanted from him when she asked, in heavily accented German, "You're Officer Williams, yes?"

"Yeah, I am. Can I help you?" he answered warily, his body tensing automatically.

"Calm down, Detective," she said, raising her hands. "I'm not here to harm you. In fact, I'm here to help you."

"Are you, now?" Skepticism seemed to be his mindset for the day- or so Rachel had told him earlier.

"Mmhmm. You know that girl you found strangled- the one you can't identify?"

He was immediately on the alert, but the papers _had_ run with the story, so anyone could know about it...

"Yeah..."

"She's a runaway from Europe, came here illegally and got caught up in some nasty stuff."

"And you know that how?"

"Let's just say, for now, that I have my ways. See if you can't match her to someone on a list of missing people from Northern Ireland."

She started to walk away, but Danny ran after her.

"Wait, wait, wait. How do you know _that?_ What about her killer? Do you know anything about that?"

A slow, secretive smile moved over her, admittedly quite attractive, face.

"Hmm... I might. Try looking at those missing persons records first. Find me after that if you're still stuck, though I can say that you're thinking along the right lines, questioning gangsters."

With that, she started to walk away again, but Danny moved after her.

"Hold on! What's your name, and how do I contact you again? Why are you telling _me_?"

"That's quite a few questions, Detective, but I suppose I don't mind. Being inquisitive is your nature." She eyed him for a moment, then continued. "Just take a walk when you need me. I have a habit of just _popping up_ when I'm needed. As for why you, let's just say that I make it my business to know what happens around me. You're a respected officer, if a bit uptight, but I like you with your rules and lines. You remind me of my home. There aren't many Germans here, and the few there are aren't quite so... fair." The smile that had made its way onto her face as she teased him faded quickly. "Not every officer is as dedicated to following up as you are, Officer WIlliams. Your colleagues are talking about declaring it a cold case already, aren't they?"

Danny nodded, slightly uncomfortable. How someone who wasn't on the force knew so much, he didn't know, and it worried him. Leaks weren't exactly uncommon, not when you live in a place where people drink too much and talk too freely, but usually they were among family. Danny knew this woman wasn't anyone in Homicide's family because he knew them and their families as well as his own. Worried or not, however, he didn't miss that she'd skipped one of his questions.

"Your name, then?"

"Oh, that's quite personal, though, isn't it?"

He just looked at her calmly, patiently waiting for her to tell him.

"Fine," she said, sighing heavily. "You can call me Anja, Aunt Anja."

* * *

Now, as Danny sits on the bed, he thinks back on all the times Anja has helped him. She's helped him solve countless cases that would have gone cold without her: mob hits, murders of people who weren't in the system, drug trafficking, _human_ trafficking, grand larceny, the list went on. He's repaid each of his cases with one of hers except one, and it's only fair, really, that he help her with this. That he's being paid more to do this than he had been paid working for Five-0 combined with his salary as a mall cop helps, but this isn't his ideal job. That would be... working for Five-0, really, but with that an impossibility, he'll take what he knows will best help him support Grace, even if it's something he's told himself he'd never do.

If he ignores what he's doing and thinks about things beyond the room: saving up so he can take Grace better places than a local beach, giving her a better home, not worrying she'll have to bury him before he's eighty, her pretty smile, he can get through it. The problem, though, is that endurance isn't what's required. He needs to participate, and for that, his daughter's smile, gift that it is, can't help. He thinks of a different smile, one set in a face he's called to mind to set aflame with hated or remembered fondly, every feature goofy as the smile grows sleepy and happy, often enough it's almost second nature to imagine he's lying in a different bed with different sheets, a longer and warmer body with him. It's almost second nature to call to mind a man he almost blames for the situation to get him through it. He'd feel bad, but it's not as if someone could tell Steve-

A knock on the door alerts him to his john's arrival, so he quickly stands up, checks that it really is him and opens the door to let him in.

The man who swiftly enters the room is one of Danny's regulars, a man of average height and looks, whose soft blonde hair and warm brown eyes ought to have meant he'd have people lining up to go out with him, or at least getting in bed with him. That isn't the case, because the john- Kevin, he reminds himself, _Ke-vin_ \- has certain... sexual proclivities which make finding a partner difficult. With Danny, though, the man doesn't have to pretend to be vanilla. He can do what pleases, because for the next two hours, Danny's his.

Drawing a deep breath, Danny reminds himself why he's doing this, what's waiting for him at the end, as he feels a warm hand pull his wife beater over his head, as the other comes to rest on his hips.

* * *

The john- Kevin, he sternly reminds himself, annoyed that he can't seem to remember to use the man's name- (If he doesn't have a name, he doesn't have to be Kevin. He could be anyone. He could be the man Danny's stupidly trying to call him and settling for "the john" instead) has obviously had a bad time of things since his last visit. He's particularly rough, leaving bruises in places he's been told not to leave them, even striking Danny's face, but Danny knows he can't complain. Besides, it's really been just love taps so far. The man's no lightweight exactly, but he pays for certain services which Danny has agreed to render. That doesn't make hearing his father's name- he's not foolish enough to use his own, but his father's really isn't much better- spat out any easier, though.

He's kneeling on the floor, shirtless, his pants around his knees and his head and arms on the bed, as he senses Kevin approaching. The man pulls Danny's belt from his pants and wraps it around Danny's wrists, then pulls him towards the head of the bed where uses his own belt to tie Danny's bound wrists to the headboard. Thus tied up, Danny knows what's coming and tries to remember how to breathe. Passing out wouldn't exactly deter Kevin- would actually spur him on, as experience has taught- but Danny knows, also from experience, that passing out with the man while on the clock will result in things he can't explain to Gracie. The facial wounds will be hard enough to talk away; he doesn't need to be hospitalized as well.

The unanticipated pressure of hands on his hips brings him back to the task at hand. Kevin's saying something about shoving his "big, fat cock" in his "tight, virgin ass" (overlooking the fact that he's already been inside Danny multiple times- but acknowledging that would ruin the atmosphere they've created) and it takes all Danny's self-control not to retch. There's dirty talk and there's this. Dirty talk is that- mostly just talk. This, though, this is a promise.

Feeling his boxers roughly shoved down, he makes the mistake of looking into Kevin's face. The harsh twist to his normally pleasant features is a strong sign Danny's going to be limping later.

A hand moves to Danny's own cock- roughly and yanking more than stroking- but he isn't paid to be pleasured, unless that's what the john wants. Kevin doesn't want him to feel pleasure; that this isn't arousing to Danny only heightens Kevin's own enjoyment.

Danny grunts, his eyes widening in response to the pain, as he feels Kevin push into him. No lubrication or preparation, just Danny on his back trying not to scream- that's what his john wants, so that's what he gets. Danny's eyes start to prickle, tears forming in the corners and quickly filling them up, and he shuts his eyes against the pain. There's a different place behind them, where everything's warm and sunny, and the man holding him is laughing as he drips salty sea water all over.

"Look at me, you whore," comes Kevin's angry voice. A hand grabs Danny's hair- something he's kept long because he still wants his pride, even if he damns himself for it later- and twists until Danny shouts, his eyes springing open. "There you go. Now don't close them again, or I'll just have to find one of those toys."

Danny's gut drops, but he doesn't have the time to contemplate the promise of the "toys" Kevin uses to rip him open- because they're designed for women and their bodies, not Danny's- because the john chooses that moment to start pumping into him viciously.

"Fuck... no," Danny grinds out, which only makes the other man laugh.

He always forgets that Kevin picks him because he fights back, unlike the others, so he plays his role in the fantasy better. Struggling makes things end more quickly, but with the threat of toys lurking at the back of his mind, he does his best not to hurry the process.

A sudden jerk on his cock makes him shout in pain and Kevin smile, and the tears- droplets of sea water from another man's soaking hair, large hands cradling his hips- are finally spilling down his face when Danny hears a loud crash and Kevin shout, "Who the fuck are you?"

Though he's not really interested- he's finally slipping into his own little fantasy, the one that's half the reason he's here- Danny turns his head toward the door, unable to do anything beyond blink for a moment. He tries shaking his head, but the image doesn't fade. His mind is forced to confront the very real possibility that what he's seeing is really happening.

Steve really is standing in the doorway with a thunderous look on his face, the door knocked off its hinges and the wall splintered, undoubtedly from the Reserved SEAL's penchant for kicking in doors and forcing deadbolts to break or break the wall.

Danny just watches at him, trying to figure out why Steve looks so angry, when he remembers the john- _Kevin, Ke-vin_.

'Oh,' his mind supplies, still stuck with half its foot in the fantasy. 'This isn't supposed to happen.'

**Author's Note:**

> A note for the last chapter, actually: 
> 
> Can anyone point out in canon where it says that Danny's an Italian? Maybe I missed it, but I'm pretty sure that all we know is he's from Jersey- which does not necessarily mean that he's Italian. Okay, I mostly made him German because everyone else seems to have gone with Italian and I'm spiteful, but if anyone can point out where it says that he really is Italian, I'll... accept that- not happily, because him being Italian is too easy- but I will.
> 
> For this chapter: 
> 
> Danny's tattoo is a quotation from Jean Rhys.  
> Also, for those who aren't acquainted with white ink tattoos, they look more like scars than ink. Here, I've even got an [example](http://farm4.staticflickr.com/3034/2905819485_062699c037.jpg) for you.
> 
> Dänchen is my terrible attempt at using a (Low) German diminutive for Daniel and coming up a bit short of the mark. If you know the right German form of Danny, I'd be more than happy to change it.


End file.
